


Over the Glowing Hill

by rhoynishnym



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Elia Martell Lives, Elia Martell-centric, Gen, not exactly rhaegar-friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22087036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhoynishnym/pseuds/rhoynishnym
Summary: Elia Martell had never thought there would come a time in her life when she would feel anything but hatred (or at best, disdain) for Lyanna Stark.And yet. And yet.Or: the story of how Elia tries to end the Rebellion peacefully, and how she makes an unexpected friend along the way. Written (belatedly) for lareinenoire the gotsecretsanta event!
Relationships: Ashara Dayne & Elia Martell, Elia Martell & Lyanna Stark, Elia Martell & Rhaella Targaryen
Comments: 15
Kudos: 92





	Over the Glowing Hill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lareinenoire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lareinenoire/gifts).



Elia Martell had never thought there would come a time in her life when she would feel anything but hatred (or at best, disdain) for Lyanna Stark.  
And yet. And yet.  
_Gods, I wished her dead_. Back when she didn’t believe there were any gods to listen to such wishes, of course. She glances down at the young woman- a girl, really, she is only a girl- whose hand has gone limp in Elia’s own. She’s feverish and unconscious, has been so for the last day and a half; occasionally, she’ll seem to wake, and every time this happens Elia sucks in a breath, only for Lyanna to mutter something incoherent and fall back into whatever dream plagues her.  
Throughout it all, Elia has fallen asleep a few times herself; a light and torturous sleep, for the only dreams that come to her are of how it all started and how it came to this.  
*  
It had seemed like such a hard thing to do, before they’d done it. To get past all those men- the cooks, the servants, the Spider. The Spider had been keeping an eye on them all, that much Elia knew, even on her children, Aegon a babe and Rhaenys little more than that.  
So to get to Aerys, she’d needed to get lord Varys first. Nothing that a dinner and a poisoned cup (and a lot of playing the part of the meek, cowed captive who desperately needs him on her side) can’t do. The man had died in his sleep later that night, but Elia hadn’t waited for his body to be discovered to make her next move.  
In another life, she might have been prone to negotiating with the Spider. In another life, she might have waited for a confirmation of his death before meeting up with her good-mother to strike. In another life, he might have made any number of small, yet crucial mistakes- but thankfully, she made none, and mere moments after Varys had left, Rhaella had showed up at her door.  
It was a good thing the King thought his wife too afraid of him (or mayhaps too loyal- it would be no surprise if he often got the two mixed up) to make an attempt on his very life.  
_Men have long thought both of us to be weak_ , Elia muses, looking over Aerys’s limp body, his limbs twisted this way and that. Ever paranoid, he’d dismissed the Kingsguard to take a walk with his beloved, loyal Queen- only for them to find her screaming her throat raw and sobbing like a madwoman at the top of a staircase leading to the gardens- and him dead, at the bottom of it.  
Of course, it was all a mishap. He’d slipped and fallen. The Queen was dutiful and gentle, and her sobbing was heart-wrenching; the poor woman could have done no such thing as putting sweetsleep in his wine, then waited for him to get drowsy, and push him down the stairs. The claw marks on her arms were always there as of late, anyway.  
*  
“I want to meet with the rebels”, she tells Rhaella and Ashara (and she supposes, Jaime Lannister, who’s guarding them from a distance but does not lack for ears). They’re taking a walk through the Red Keep’s gardens. “I would try to make peace with them, if I can.” Her companions both nod, and Ash lets a hand drift to her belly, a forlorn look in her eyes. Besides her, Rhaella seems to tense.  
“Should we not wait for Rhaegar’s return? I know my son has been foolish, but he’s still to be king. My late husband”-her face, which used to twist, even if briefly, at any mention of Aerys, remains serene- “thought to send the Lord Commander to fetch him. I daresay it was one of his more sensible ideas.”  
Elia feels her breakfast threatening to rise back up her throat. Any mention of Rhaegar and his little child-whore would do that to her. On many a night, she has dreamt of finding them both and throttling them until their faces go as blue as that cursed crown of roses.  
“We ought to do both, I think.” Elia says, though she won’t send the Lord Commander, but rather, someone loyal to her, and her only. “A meeting with the rebel lords will only lay the groundwork for Rhaegar, for what he has to do. I think he will agree that trying to establish peace is key now- our chances of winning this war are dwindling by the day, ever since Mace Tyrell got it in his thick head that he’s more useful sitting around Storm’s End and besieging two children than actually helping us fight.”  
“Rhaegar will want peace too.” Rhaella says. “I know him. But you’re right- the sooner we begin the talks, the better.”  
Elia opens her mouth to say something, when they are interrupted by a gleeful, high-pitched shout.  
“Mama! Grandmamma!” From the edge of the gardens, Rhaenys barrels through the bushes and neat rows of flowers, and straight to them. Rhaella kneels in the dirt, staining her dress, and opens her arms to embrace her granddaughter.  
“Up, grandmamma?” Rhaenys asks.  
“No, Rhaenys, stop bothering your grandmother. You’re a big girl now, she won’t be able to lift you up forever-” Elia stops her chiding, because Rhaella lifts Rhaenys up anyway, and twirls her around, and for a moment, she feels terrible for what she’s about to do to her. For all her sense and her practicality, Rhaella loves her children, and she wouldn’t want anything befalling Rhaegar, even after he’d left all of them at the mercy of his father to go gods know where and fuck a girl of five-and-ten.  
But Elia can’t afford to think of Rhaella’s son, a grown man, when she has children of her own.  
*  
They meet in a tent outside the city, Elia flanked by Jaime Lannister and her uncle Lewyn, and followed by a small Dornish contingent, a part of the host summoned by Aerys months past, and which had arrived in King’s Landing less than a fortnight after his death.  
The contingent had brought a most pleasant surprise in the form of Oberyn; it was him, and a number of men he had chosen, who had gone to fetch Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark. Rhaella still does not know of it; ever since their discussion in the garden, Elia has somewhat avoided her, and on the occasion they have met face to face, has talked of anything but Rhaegar.  
When she enters, three men who can only be Jon Arryn, Eddard Stark and Hoster Tully await her, seated at a table. She, herself, has brought Ash and her father, Lord Dayne, and also sharp-tongued Larra. She notices the lack of Robert Baratheon- unsurprising, since last she’d heard the man was riding North from Ashford, and also preferable, since the man is reputed to have the legendary temper of his House.  
She swallows her fears and sits down.  
“My lords.” Her hands are shaking, even now that she’s seated. She dares a glance at Ash out of the corner of her eye, and is greeted with a reassuring smile. “Thank you for accepting to meet us. You have been most gracious to come here, after the crimes my good-father has committed against you all.” She inclines her head towards Stark, who has had the most to suffer in this ordeal, and then towards Arryn, who is now heirless because of Aerys. “I offer you my most sincere apologies, but I know words are empty, and cannot replace lost family. You are in the right, in your grievances against the Crown, for both King Aerys and Prince Rhaegar have proven themselves unfit to rule a realm. Nonetheless, I must ask that you listen to my words. I am tired of war, and it is my greatest hope for peace to return to the Realm.”  
“And why should we listen to you?” Tully asks sharply. Elia sees the unspoken accusation in his eyes- she is guilty of being both a woman, and Dornish, besides being married to a Targaryen.  
“Aerys’s small council was as unfit to rule as he. I would offer all of you places of importance on my son’s council, should you swear fealty to him as your King. It is time Westeros was ruled by wise men again.” Empty, but necessary flattery. And more than necessary promises. “I am a Princess of Dorne, and of the Realm; you have my word on all that I have said. And I would return Lady Lyanna to you alive and unharmed.” This is more or less a gamble, but they need not know that.  
“She is alive? How do you know? Do you know where she is?” it is Eddard Stark speaking now. “Your Grace” he adds, in haste.  
“My husband is many things, but not a murderer; men have been sent after them as we speak, and she will soon be returned to you, my lord.” At least, she prays it will be so; she does not know what she’ll do, otherwise.  
Jon Arryn speaks next. “Before, Your Grace said you would appoint us to your son’s council.” This one was paying attention. “What has happened to your husband?”  
She cannot stop herself from smiling, then. “Why, nothing has, lord Arryn. Not yet, anyway.”  
“What will happen to him?”  
“Should you accept my terms, that is for you to decide, my lords.”  
*  
They accept the terms, after some haggling. Robert Baratheon also makes his way to the capital, and she’s told he raged for days, and nearly killed Ash, who’d stayed in the rebel camp as a token of the Crown’s good faith, but eventually relented at the promise of getting “his Lyanna” back ( _his Lyanna_! As if the girl was chattel! Elia may have no fondness for her, but she understands why she may have run- what woman would want to marry such a brute?), and the thought of Rhaegar getting his due justice.  
Elia’s biggest difficulties had been Rhaella and Jon Connington. Her good-mother had wept, and Elia knows whatever trust they had is gone, now that she has given Rhaegar what is essentially a death sentence. She can understand it, as much as she doesn’t like that it is happening; she knows she would never forgive any future good-daughter of hers for doing anything of the sort to Aegon. She has Rhaella under constant watch- the woman is not to be underestimated, and until Rhaegar is dead and burnt, all of her moves must be tracked.  
Connington had been easier to deal with, largely because Elia has never liked the man to begin with, so there is no remorse over locking him up. She’s trusted Larra and Uncle Lewyn to deal with him- and Larra, in typical Larra fashion, has given him rooms in the Maidenvault. It sends her into fits of laughter whenever she thinks of it.  
*  
The absconding lovers are found and brought back. Rhaegar is thrown into the Black Cells; the rebels are given rooms within the Red Keep, Ash is returned to safety, and Elia invites Lyanna Stark to dine with her.  
Lyanna Stark, who turns out to be with child.  
*  
The girl is gaunt and pale, and there are dark circles under her eyes that she makes no effort to hide. Elia wants to hate her, but she looks so _miserable_.  
“I’m sorry.” Is the first thing out of her mouth, then she starts crying. In between hiccups, she adds a trembling “Your Grace.”  
It’s very, very hard to hate someone who’s weeping and apologising and then falls to her knees in front of you. She’s only just turned six-and-ten. At six-and-ten, Elia had still been somewhat carefree, traipsing around the Water Gardens and gossiping with Ash, and Larra, and Myriah Dalt, and sometimes even some of the serving girls- she remembers Nym and Honey most fondly- about boys and girls and dresses.  
_Gods._  
“There’s no need for that, lady Lyanna.” Elia keeps a cool tone; the girl has still run away with Elia’s husband, but she helps her up and into her seat regardless. Dry your tears.”  
She does, and Elia pours her some watered down wine.  
“All I’ve ever wanted was freedom.”  
Elia lets out a bitter, throaty laugh. “That’s all every woman’s wanted. Surely you must know though, it is not our lot in life. We have duties.”  
“I know... I know, but...” her lower lip trembles and tears start threatening to spill again. “He said we were fated.” Her eyes are so grey, so wide, so gullible. “I n-never wanted this child, I swear, b-but R-Rhaegar, I mean his Grace, he said...”  
His gods-damned prophecy, again.  
“You need not worry about him now.” She puts her hand on top of Lyanna’s. “I’ll take care of you.” She finds herself saying, in spite of herself.  
“And Robert? Knowing him, he may still want to marry me. Worse, he’ll wish my child dead.”  
“Robert Baratheon will not touch either of you. I’ll make sure of it.” After finally meeting with him on a few different occasions, for negotiations, Elia truly despises the man. She would not wish him even on Lyanna. “I’m sure your brother will help with this matter.” Ned Stark, on the other hand, she likes plenty; he’s quiet, and soft-spoken, and his biggest worries are his sister and his new wife, who’s also expecting a child soon. He’ll not let her in the hands of a man who would kill her child.  
Shouldn’t Elia want to kill the child, too, though?  
*  
She goes to the Black Cells that night, just her and Uncle Lewyn. She’d have taken Oberyn, but he was bound to do something rash and ruin all her careful planning; she loves and trusts her little brother, more than anyone else in the world, but he’d already given Rhaegar a black eye and a broken arm bringing him back to King’s Landing.  
As they approach her husband’s cell, they hear voices.  
“I thought you were here to set me free. The Realm needs me; my children will need me to guide them to do what’s right. I thought you knew this. I thought Elia knew this, too.” Rhaegar’s voice cracks towards the end, and Elia doesn’t have time to wonder.  
“You left us here, with _him_.” Rhaella sounds so betrayed, so hurt. “As much as I hate to say it, Elia’s right not to trust you. That you left her and I might have been forgiven. But you left Rhaenys, and Aegon and Viserys here too.”  
“You were his family. He was mad, but he wouldn’t have done anything to you, or to his heirs.”  
“I have sheltered you too much, my love.” There is rustling and then Rhaegar gasps. “ _He wouldn’t have done anything?_ ” Rhaella’s voice is barely more than a whisper, and Elia’s straining to hear what she's saying. But then she hears her good-mother gather her skirts and leave. Rhaella passes her by, Barristan Selmy in tow. They look each other in the eye, and for a moment she thinks she means to say something, but the moment passes, and each goes her own way.  
Rhaegar is a mess when she finds him, ragged and dishevelled.  
“I’m sorry, Elia. But it had to be done, for our children.” He says when he sees her.  
She wants to rage, same as she’d wanted to rage at Lyanna. But all she finds in her heart is a cold worse than the one from beyond the Wall.  
“I’m sorry, Rhaegar, but it had to be done. For our children.”  
He dies six days later.  
*  
Aegon’s crowning is a boring affair, and really, it’s _Elia’s_ crowning more than it is her son’s. At least for now. He’s silent at the Sept, thank the gods, though during the feast he throws a horrible tantrum. He’s been fed, and cleaned and changed, but he’s only a babe- so he is obviously tired. Elia tries everything to quieten him, but the racket is too much, and she also has Rhaenys to contend with. Just as she’s about to give up, he stops crying. Elia looks up, only to find Lyanna Stark across from her, making faces at Aegon.  
When she sees Elia watching her, she stops and stutters. “I’ve come to pay my respects to the new King, and I...”  
“I think the new King liked the way you were paying your respects before.”  
At this, the girl bursts out laughing. It is a beautiful laughter, and Elia can’t help but join her.  
*  
Robert Baratheon is easily convinced to marry someone else. A child is quite enough proof that Lyanna has been _soiled_ , as far as men like him are concerned. It takes some effort from Elia, and Ned, and Jon Arryn, to make him give up the idea, but mercifully, he relents, and leaves court to sulk back in Storm’s End, sending over his youngest brother as a ward to Elia.  
*  
The Starks linger. Lyanna is too heavily pregnant to travel, and Elia finds herself inviting her to join her and her ladies on walks and dinners. In another life, Elia might have been friends with Lyanna Stark- the girl is witty, and spirited, and terribly funny.  
Her ladies are all wary at first, but eventually, she becomes a little sister of sorts to them, trading barbs with Larra, or talking of horse-riding and hawking with Alynna Celtigar- but most of all to Ash, who’s carrying what might be the only tangible thing that Brandon Stark left behind after his passing.  
They’ve become too attached to each other, Elia jokes when the two go into childbirth on the same day, before rushing after Ashara, leaving Lyanna with the other women.  
*  
Ash’s birth, although far from painless, is mercifully quick, and she is delivered of a daughter with Brandon’s long face and her beautiful violet eyes. Elia’s never seen a long-faced babe before, and the sight of it is near comical.  
“What will you name her?”  
“I had thought before that I’d try and give my babe a Northern name, but I barely knew her father.” Ash is so exhausted she’s almost talking in her sleep. “So I thought better of it, and I’ll name her after her Aunt.”  
“Allyria is a good name.”  
“Not Allyria, silly.”  
“Do you have other sisters that I don’t know of?”  
Ash’s eyes flutter open. “Elia.”  
“Yes?”  
“No, her name is Elia. It will be a bit confusing, granted, but...” Ash doesn’t finish her sentence, because Elia embraces her and holds her tight.  
*  
She lets Ashara rest, and goes her way to relax, when the thought of Lyanna strikes her, and she runs the other way.  
*  
Elia stays throughout it all, and so does Ned Stark. In spite of herself, she finds that the girl has grown on her, and when things go south, she wants to cry, but instead falls into fitful sleep. Lyanna Stark has a son- a Targaryen bastard, who could one day threaten Aegon’s crown; a child she should order suffocated now, so it looks like he was stillborn. The thought does not even cross her mind until much, much longer after, but she would have never followed through with it.  
Elia Martell is many things, but it seems a monster is not one of them.  
Instead, she sits by Lyanna’s bedside, and prays to everything and nothing at the same time that the girl would live.  
*  
She has fallen asleep again, when she feels someone squeeze her hand. Dusk has come, and the sky outside is in flames, blinding her dream-fogged eyes.  
“Elia. Elia.”  
She looks to where the voice is coming from, and finds Lyanna- tired and still weak and pale- looking at her with her wide grey eyes.  
“The master says she’s made it.” Ned Stark says from the other side of the room.  
Elia Martell may be the only woman in the world to rejoice her husband’s mistress surviving childbirth- but who cares. Said husband has been dead for moons, and she and Lyanna are mercifully, blissfully alive in this world, however cruel and in need of mending it may be.


End file.
